“There goes the ‘Pampered Pet’ again! Got its little keeper with it, as usual. Why don’t they lead her by a chain, and be done with it?”
Miles stood by the schoolroom window, hands in pockets, as he surveyed a , grey and drear to make any diversity doubly welcome, and at his words there came the sound of a general pushing-back of chairs, as the four other occupants of the room dashed forward to share in the view.
They jostled each other with the courtesy which brothers and sisters are apt to show each other in early days; five big boys and girls, ranging between the ages of eight and nineteen. Miles kept his central position by reason of superior strength, a vigorous dig of his elbow being enough to keep trespassers at a distance. Betty before him and nimbly dropped on her knees, the twins stood on either side of the window-sill, while poor Pam and in the background, here and there to try all positions in turn, and finding each as unsatisfactory as the last.
The Square gardens looked grey and with the desolation of autumn in a city, and the road facing the window was empty, except for two female figures—a lady, and a girl of sixteen, who were slowly approaching the corner. The lady was dressed in black, the girl was noticeably smart, in a pretty blue costume, with dainty boots on her tiny feet, and a fur cap worn at the fashionable angle on her golden head.
“That’s a new dress,—the fifth I’ve seen her in this month!” sighed Betty . “Wearing it on an afternoon like this, too. The idea! Serve her right if it were soaked through!”
“Look at her over the ! She’d rather go a mile out of her way than get a splash on those precious boots. I’m sure by the look of them that they pinch her toes! I am glad you girls don’t make ninnies of yourselves by wearing such stupid things.”
“Can’t! Feet too big!” Jill, each cheek in turn with the lump of toffee which she was mechanically moving from side to side, so as to the as much as possible.
“Can’t! Too poor! Only four shillings to last out till the end of the quarter!” sighed Betty, again.
“Boots! Boots! What boots? Let me see her boots. It’s mean! You won’t let me see a thing!” cried Pam, pushing her shaggy head round Miles’ elbow, and craning forward on the tip of her toes. “I say! She’s grander than ever to-day, isn’t she?”
“Look at the umbrella! About as thick as a lead pencil!” Jill, her nose against the . “Aunt Amy had one like that when she came to stay, and I opened it, because mother says it spoils them to be left squeezed up, and she was as mad as a hatter. She twisted at it a good ten minutes before she would take it out again. She’d never get mine straight! I’ve carried things in it till the wires out like . An umbrella is made for use; it’s bosh pretending it’s an . ... They are going a round the Square between the showers for the benefit of the Pet’s . I’m glad I haven’t got one to bother about!”
“True for you!” agreed Miles, with brotherly candour. “You are as brown as a nigger, and the Pet is like a big wax-doll—yellow hair, blue eyes, pink cheeks, all complete. Not a bad-looking doll, either. I passed quite close to her one day, and she looked . She’ll be a jolly pretty girl one of these days.”
“Oh, if you admire that type. Personally, I don’t care for niminy-piminies. You never see her speaking, but I daresay if you her in the right places she would out ‘Mam-ma! Pa-pa!’ ... Now watch!” cried Betty dramatically. “When she gets to the corner, she will peer up at this window beneath her eyelashes, and worse than ever when she sees us watching. Don’t shove so, Pam! You can see quite well where you are. Now look! She’s going to raise her head.”
The five heads pressed still more against the pane, and five pairs of eyes were unblinkingly upon the young girl who was daintily picking her way round the corner of the Square. The fur cap left her face exposed to view, and, true to Betty’s prophecy, as she reached a certain point in the road she turned her head over her shoulder and shot a quick glance at the window overhead. Quicker than lightning the pretty head went round again, and the pink cheeks grew at the sight of those five eager faces watching her every movement.
and Jill burst into loud laughter, Betty’s upper lip curled , but Miles’ thin face showed an answering flush of colour, and he backed into the room, exclaiming angrily—
“I say, this is too much of a good thing! I don’t know what you all mean by round me wherever I go! Why can’t you leave a fellow alone? Can’t I even look out of the window without having you all on my back? A nice effect it must have to see the whole place blocked up, as if we were staring at a Lord Mayor’s show!”
Betty sat down by the table and took up the blouse on which she had been working for the last three months. The sleeves had been taken out and replaced twice over, and the collar-band refused to come right. By the time it was finished it would be hopelessly out of date, which Betty considered as one of the many contrary circumstances of life which continually her good endeavours.
“Don’t worry yourself. She will enjoy being stared at!” she said coldly. “She knows we watch her coming in and out, and shows off all her little tricks for our benefit. She’s the most , stuck-up, little I ever saw, without a thought in her head but her clothes, and her own importance. I wouldn’t have anything to do with her for the world!”
“Jolly good thing then that you are never likely to get a chance! Her people will never trouble to call upon us; they are much too high and . That’s no reason, though, why you should be so down on the poor little soul. I should have thought that you would have felt sorry for her, cooped up with that old governess all her time, with not a soul to keep her company! But girls are such cads—they never play fair.”
Miles strode out of the room in a , and Betty’s lips compressed themselves into a thin straight line, the meaning of which the others knew full well. To Miles’ displeasure was Betty’s bitterest punishment, and the “Pampered Pet” was not likely to fare any better at her hands in consequence of his denouncement. Jill to Jack. There was no chance of any more fun in the schoolroom now that Miles had departed, and Betty was in the sulks; it would be wise to go and themselves elsewhere. They left the room arm-in-arm, heads almost , as they whispered and together, the most pair of twins that ever existed, and eight-year-old Pam leant her elbows on the table and stared at her big sister.
Betty was seventeen, nearly grown-up, inasmuch as she had left school, and now took classes to complete her education. Her blue serge dress came down to her ankles, and she made a attempt to “do up” her hair in the style of the period. Mrs Trevor considered the style too elaborate for such a young girl, but after all it did not much matter what was aimed at, since every morning someone exclaimed innocently, “You’ve done your hair a new way, Betty!” and was fully in the remark. One day Betty’s ambition ran to curls and waves, and she appeared at the breakfast-table with a fuzz of a negress. The next day better prevailed, when she brushed hard for ten minutes, and then pinned on a hair-net, with the result that she looked a veritable little Puritan; and between these extremes ranged a variety of effects, only possible of achievement to an amateur with no experience, but ambition.
If you could have honestly pronounced Betty pretty, you would have satisfied the deepest of her heart. She gazed in the glass every morning, twisting her head from side to side, and deciding irrevocably that she was , a fright, a perfect freak, while all the time an little hope lingered that perhaps after all, in becoming clothes, and when she was in a good temper, she might look rather ... nice! hair, such a pretty colour, but so little of it that it would not “go” like other girls’; dark grey eyes with curly black ; an impertinent little nose, and a mouth just about twice as big as those by the ladies in mother’s Book of Beauty downstairs. At the best she could only be “pretty” or a “sweet-looking girl,” and she pined to be beautiful and stately, and to as a queen over the hearts of men.
Poor Betty! Many a girl of seventeen lives through the same tragedy in secret, but they are not all fortunate enough to possess an adoring younger sister who thinks her all that she fain would be.
Pam put out a little ink-stained hand, and stroked the half-finished blouse admiringly.
“It’s going to be lubly, Bet! It hardly shows a bit where you joined it. You’ll soon have finished it now.”
“No, I shan’t,” snapped Betty. “There’s heaps to do still, and it’s getting too cold for cottons. Just my luck! I always seem to be making mistakes. It wasn’t my fault that that stupid girl looked up and caught us watching.”
The thought showed itself in the sudden change of subject, but Pam was not surprised, for in her quiet, shrewd little way she had divined it long ago.
“But you said she’d look up, so you could have moved if you liked. I don’t think it was very perlite,” she said solemnly. “There were all four of you at the window, and my eyes peeping round Miles’ back. I expect it looked pretty fearful. She went purple, didn’t she? It’s to blush! I did once when I got a prize before people, and I hated it.”
“Oh, you! You are a modest little mouse. The Pet is quite different. Nasty thing, she might have been satisfied without making between Miles and me! She has everything that she wants, and that I want, and haven’t got. She’s pretty, and rich, and has a lovely big house and heaps of people to wait upon her, and nice things, and—everything! You can’t think how I hate her!”
Pam leant her thin arms on the table, and for a long, thoughtful moment. When she , it was, as usual, to deliver herself of the unexpected.
“That’s what you call ‘envy, , and malice,’ I s’pose,” she said thoughtfully, and Betty’s head came up with a jerk to turn upon her a glance of suspicious .
No! The round, grey eyes were as clear, as innocent, as guilelessly adoring as she had ever seen them. They gazed into her own without a shadow of self-consciousness, and as she met that gaze Betty flushed, and the lines disappeared from her face as if wiped out by a sponge.
“One for you, Pam,” she cried, laughing. “I am a pig! A nice big elder sister I am, to set you such an example! I’m cross, dear. Everything has gone wrong the whole day long. You had better run off and leave me alone, or I’ll snap again. I feel all churned up inside! This is only a temporary .”
“There’s for tea; I saw the bag in the pantry. S’pose I went downstairs and cook to toast them? You said yourself toasted scones were . If Miles smells them he’s sure to come,” said Pam shrewdly, and Betty leant forward and kissed her impetuously on the cheek.
“There’s one comfort,” she cried; “I’ve got you, and the Pet hasn’t! You are the comfort of my old age, Pamela, my child. Yes, toasted! And lots of butter, and leave the door wide open, so that the smell may get out, and Miles back.”